


Hope

by levisinner



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14207091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levisinner/pseuds/levisinner
Summary: “You know I never give up hope,” she says with a sad smile. “Not even for you.”





	1. Chapter 1

> _”One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual. There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still. The marks of suffering are more comparable to the loss of a finger, or of the sight of an eye. We may not miss them, either, for one minute in a year, but if we should there is nothing to be done about it.”_
> 
> * * *
> 
> F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night

 

“It’s certainly been a while, Armie.” There’s a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips; it matches the mischievous twinkle in her eye that he knows all too well. Of course she hasn’t changed one bit.

“It has,” he agrees. She may be expecting him to go easy on her, given their history, but he has no intention to do so. The First Order beat out any sympathy he might have carried a long time ago. “It’s almost funny where life has brought us in these past ten years…what startlingly different positions we’re in.”

“Well, we always knew you weren’t going to break the mold. You were never adventurous enough to do anything but follow in daddy’s footsteps.”

He slaps her. Blood is trickling out of her mouth when she looks back at him. Backtalk is not tolerated from prisoners; not even if they’re her. For a split second, before her cool demeanor returns, there’s a glimmer of sadness in her eyes, and suddenly, Hux realizes this interrogation may be harder than he thought. “And you were never smart enough to realize the universe can’t run on ideals of freedom and hope.”

“You believed in those ideals once, too.”

“Then I grew up.”

“Did you? Or did daddy beat it out of you?”

He slaps her again. “You’re not here to rehash the past. You know what I want.”

“I know what you want? Oh God, Armie, I always knew you had a thing for me, but now’s not really the—” She’s expecting the slap this time, but it still hurts just as bad.

“You will tell me everything you know about the Resistance, and then you will be executed, as is fitting for such rebel scum as yourself. If you do not comply, it will be tortured out of you.”

“We both know I’m not giving up anything. Do what you will. When I joined the Resistance, I was prepared to die alone and in pain. You can’t break me.”

He didn’t think she could still affect him like this. She was always willing to sacrifice so much for others, for what she believed to be right. It was one of a million reasons why he fell in love with her when they were teenagers — why he apparently still loved her.

He can’t back down; he knows that. His feelings mean nothing to the bigger picture. All he can hope is that she’ll surrender her information without having to hurt her, and then he can give her a painless death.

“I know you’re still in there,” she says quietly, as if she senses his inner conflict. “The boy I loved. The First Order hasn’t killed you, not all of you. There’s…there’s part of you that knows why I do what I do. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“What do you want me to do? Abandon everything, run away with you, join the Resistance? You can’t be serious.”

“You know I never give up hope,” she says with a sad smile. “Not even for you.”

“Our paths may cross, but we’re not meant to walk together. The universe took us in different directions a long time ago.” If there’s one thing Hux has learned in his years in the First Order, it’s how to repress emotions. But now, he feels like he’s one sad look from her puppy dog eyes away from crying.

“Look at my wrist.”

“What?”

“The inside of my left wrist.”

Part of him knows. Part of him has always known. The rest of him doesn’t want to look, to find the confirmation that he’s about to have his soulmate tortured and killed. But he does anyway, pushing up her sleeve. He sees the very beginnings of the tattoo that he knows spreads across her entire forearm. A tattoo he knows every detail of because it’s his.

He was older than her, so his appeared first. On his birthday, she snuck into his house early in the morning, waking him up as she tried to climb in the window and tripped over his curtains. She couldn’t wait to see his soulmate’s mark.

Six months later, he went over to her house on her birthday, eager to see hers. To see if the hope he held onto was worth it. To see if she was his. But she was gone. A month later, he found a letter she’d hidden under his mattress, telling him goodbye. She told him she was sorry, that she loved him, but she couldn’t condone what their families were doing. He never saw her again. Until now.

“Why did you show me this?” It takes all his strength to hold back tears. He didn’t know she could still do this to him after a decade.

“Because there are some things in this galaxy worth fighting for,” she says. She’s not stupid for being idealistic, he realizes; she’s the smartest person he’s ever known. She knows the odds she’s against - both in the war and right now. Yet she still fights, and whatever he feels for her is making him want to fight, too. “And you’re one of them.”

“Please,” he says. His voice is barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid that if he speaks too loud, it’ll break the dam holding back his tears. “Just tell me what I want. Join me. I…I can save your life if you cooperate, and we can be together.”

“Armie…Armitage. You know that’s not happening.”

“I can hope, can’t I?” he asks, and the first tear falls.

She’s about to respond when a stormtrooper rushes into the room. “I thought I said not to interrupt me,” he immediately barks, his stoic façade thrown back up in a split second.

“Sir, we’re under attack.”

It’s a small Resistance fleet — too small to do any damage. He’s not sure what they’re trying to accomplish…oh, shit, he does. A distraction.

When he gets back to her cell, she’s gone. Her ship’s gone, too. He has no idea how she got out, or made it to her ship, or anything. She never seemed to care too much about what was possible or not.

He should be angry. But when he gets to his quarters that night, all he can do is cry.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“When did you give up on Ben?”

It’s a question that’s too personal; she knows that. General Organa has no obligation to answer it, but she can’t help asking.

“When I looked at him and no longer saw my son,” the General answers after a long pause. “When I looked in his eyes and could no longer see the boy I raised, but a monster of Snoke’s creation.”

The younger woman stops, considers this. It’s not the answer she’s looking for. She wants a reason to close herself off, to stop thinking about Hux. She wants someone to tell her he’s too far gone, because fighting for him hurts too goddamn much. But another part of her wants to hear this. That there’s still hope.

“Who is it?” Leia asks.

“My childhood best friend, my soulmate…it’s General Hux.”

“Oh, that’s a rough one.”

“Do you think someone like him can be reached? After everything he’s done…after Starkiller…”

“When was the last time you had contact with him?”

“Six months ago. When I was captured. He did the interrogation. He was…he almost started crying, he was begging me to renounce the Resistance and join him. I was begging him to join me instead. When he walked into the room, I thought for sure my Armie was gone. But then as he was hitting me, trying to get me to talk, it looked like it hurt him more than it hurt me, and I just…I don’t think he’d ever leave the First Order. But when I looked at his eyes, I saw the same boy who told me he believed me when I said I thought a free, peaceful galaxy was possible.”

“If it’s at all possible to reach him, hon, I believe you can.”

* * *

The next time he sees her, he’s the prisoner.

He doesn’t know a lot of what happened; he knows he was on a transport from the Finalizer to the surface of Jarkin 3 when a small Resistance squadron took out all the protective TIE fighters. The shuttle was hit. He doesn’t remember anything after that.

He’s not sure where he is, but it’s definitely not the same system. He’s tied to a bed in a canvas tent, the door tied open to reveal a desolate expanse of sandy desert that looks nothing like Jarkin. She’s sitting on a chair on the other side of the tent, reading a datapad. He doesn’t think she’s noticed he’s awake, but then she speaks. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Where am I?”

“That’s not important.”

“Then what is important?”

“That nobody in the Resistance or First Order knows where either of us are.”

“Nobody in the Resistance…? Have you finally left your foolishness behind?”

“C’mon, Armie. You know me better than that,” she says, shaking her head as she sets down the datapad and crosses the room. She sits on the the bed next to him. “No, my ship went down in that little attack we did on you, so I grabbed you and a new ship. I’m presumed dead so I have a little leeway with reporting to my superiors. I’m waiting to make my reappearance, because I know the second I hand you over, we’re not getting any more time together.”

“So for your last bit of alone time with me, I’m tied to the bed? I never knew you were that kinky.” See? He can match her banter, too.

She can’t help but laugh. That’s not the fearsome General Hux; that’s her Armitage. She knew he’d show up if she got him away from the Order. “You are still my prisoner, after all. Although if you’re particularly fond of that concept, I’m sure we can find time for that somewhere.” She leans forward and traces the outline of his face with her fingertips ever so gently, as if she’s afraid it’s all a dream and he’ll fade away any second.

“Why did you want me here, [Y/N]? Why didn’t you just hand me to Organa?”

“Once, I asked Leia,” she says slowly, “when she gave up on Ben…on Kylo, and she told me it was when she looked in his eyes and didn’t recognize her son anymore. I needed to know if you were still in there.”

“Am I?”

She’s quiet for a long time. “I don’t know.” Her voice trembles when she finally replies. “I look at you and I see the boy I loved…but the boy I loved wouldn’t do the things you’ve done. There’s so much blood on your hands, dammit! Starkiller! How could you make Starkiller? How could the man I knew kill so many innocent people? So many children? There can’t be any good left in you…so then what the fuck am I seeing? Am I just so desperate that I refuse to admit the man I knew is dead? What are you, Armitage Hux?” By the time she’s finished, she’s yelling with tears steaming down her face.

He hasn’t ever felt guilty about the path of destruction left by the First Order before, but she’s always managed to make him feel new emotions. He’s never felt so small before. “I don’t know,” he answers, echoing her earlier sentiment.

“You’re a monster,” she answers for him. She’s looking away now, but he can still see the tears beginning to stream. “Only a monster could do what you’ve done. So why do I still love you?”

“Because we’re soulmates, [Y/N].” It’s the first time her name has passed his lips in a decade. After she left, he refused to talk about it. It just hurt too bad.

“I should end this foolishness,” she says, and he’s not really sure if she’s telling him or herself. “Take you back to the Resistance, where you can stand trial for your crimes. Rejoice in your suffering — in justice — with everyone else.”

“But you can’t.”

“But I can’t.”

The silence lasts a long time. Her tears turn into full body sobs, and Hux would give the whole First Order to get out of the ropes and hold her. He would give it all up, but at this point, he knows it wouldn’t help. No matter what he’s doing, there’s still the dilemma of what he’s done.

Her taunts in the Finalizer’s interrogation room were right. This wasn’t Hux’s path, not always; once, he’d dreamed of the same galaxy she did. When she left, though, he felt like he had no choice left but his father’s ideals. Eventually, they became Hux’s as well. Or so he thought, until she came back and put a wrench in his morality.

He’s in too far to simply pass the blame for his crimes to his parentage, of course, but he can’t help thinking that if she’d never left, he might be fighting in the Resistance alongside her.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time he wakes up, his bindings are gone. She sits in the chair, pouring over a data pad, not bothering to look up as he eagerly sits up, rubbing the rope marks on his wrists.

He crosses the room and kneels in front of her. He runs his hands up her legs, drinking in the feel of her for the first time in years. She still doesn’t look up, so he takes the datapad and sets it down.

“I was reading that,” she says. There’s a hint of annoyance in her voice, but it feels halfway put on and the smile trying to tug at her lips seems to confirm that.

He smiles as he rests his hands on her thighs. “Let’s run away together.”

“You’re still my prisoner, you know.”

“I know. Let’s run away together,” he repeats. “I’ll grow a beard and we’ll find some shithole town on some forgotten outer rim planet and we’ll be farmers and have three kids and ignore all the politics.”

“Sounds like you’ve put some thought into this.“ She’s finally smiling, but it’s a sad smile. ”But suffering people aren’t politics to me, Armie. I can’t walk away from this.”

“I know. But I’m allowed to dream, aren’t I?”

She sighs and purses her lips. “The universe made a mistake, making us soulmates.”

“Yeah, it did,” he concedes, “but I reckon it’s the best mistake it’s ever made. No matter how much it hurts, how this thing ends…the times we had together are worth everything to me.”

“Then renounce the First Order. Come home with me. If we have you on our side, I know we can win.”

It’s…tempting, and Hux can’t believe he’s grown so weak that it is tempting to him. “Darling…”

“Do you remember when we were 8? You told me that you’d do anything for me for the rest of our lives.”

He does remember; she held it over his head until she left. Whenever she brought it up, he’d groan and roll his eyes, but he’d still do whatever it was she asked. “You must be desperate if you’re bringing that up,” he teases. “Last time, it was to get me to sneak out with you to get high and watch the stars.”

“We fell asleep and came home the next morning, still smelling like silverweed. You got grounded for a month.” She smiles fondly at the memory.

“And you didn’t even get in trouble because your parents were so used to your shit they didn’t even bother trying anymore.”

She stiffens a little at the mention of her parents. “I saw them a year ago, y’know…I was back home, meeting up with an informant at a restaurant, and they were there. We made eye contact and I high tailed it out of there. By the time I left the planet an hour later, my face was already plastered all over the city, naming me as an incredibly dangerous rebel.”

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N]…”

She shrugs. “It’s whatever. They were dead to me the day I left.”

“If…if I dropped everything…abandoned the First Order…we wouldn’t ever be the same, would we? We talk now, and we have these glimpses into who we used to be, but we’re not the same people anymore. Could we ever go back?”

“We can’t go back, but we can go forward. That’s all we ever can do.”

“Can we, though? Could you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?”

She bites her lip, trying to stop it from trembling. “I don’t know,” she replies after a long pause, blinking back tears. She’s not a crier, dammit, but Hux always seems to challenge that fact. When he reaches up and wipes the tears starting to trickle out off her cheeks, she loses it.

He stands, scoops her up into his arms, and carries her to the bed bridal style. He sits there, cradling her as she cries into his dirty, torn uniform.

He loves her. This isn’t a new revelation, of course, but it’s the one thing he’s sure of in the entire galaxy. She’s so unapologetically herself at every moment of her life, while Hux spends every waking moment hiding behind a face of stoicism and anger. She’s not afraid of feeling pain, of losing, of dying, so long as she’s sure she’s put all of herself into her task. She knows what she stands for and she fights for it, whatever the consequences. Hux doesn’t know if he agrees (although he’s equally sure if he disagrees) with what she preaches, but her conviction is objectively impressive.

As he worked his way through the First Order, he felt proud. When Starkiller destroyed the Republic, he felt like it was the culmination of his life’s work. But his greatest accomplishment is a barely a dot on the radar compared to what he feels simply being in her presence.

It doesn’t matter, he knows. He didn’t have a choice in his soulmate, and how could he not love the woman the universe decided was his perfect equal? Their romance was — is — unavoidable, but it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Soulmates lose each other every day; life goes on. War…war always goes on.

“How do you do it?” he asks when her sobs start to die down. “How do you have so much in you, trying to fight for me? In war, we shouldn’t matter. You’re an excellent soldier. I don’t know why you don’t put this energy into the conflict.”

“Because this is the conflict, Armie.” She peels herself off his chest to look him in the eye. “The Resistance isn’t fighting for control or power. We fight for what we love. We’ve all lost things — families, homes, friends, loves — and we fight so no one else has to. We don’t fight to kill what we hate. We fight to save what we love. And you happen to fall into the latter category.”

“That’s an illogical way to fight.”

“Oh, fuck logic, Armie! You’re miserable in the First Order. You let your brain choose everything. Have you ever stopped to listen to your heart? Maybe it’s stupid — no, it’s definitely stupid — but you know what? It’s worth it. It’s fucking worth it, the fight is worth it. You’re miserable, and maybe being the little guy fucking hurts sometimes, but I sleep at night with no regrets, no what ifs. I sleep knowing I’m doing the right thing. Do you?”

“I’m not miserable,” is the only half response he can muster.

She gets up off his lap and begins pacing around the room. “Look at yourself. It’s written all over you. All you are is a shell of a man, throwing up a façade of the big, mean, emotionless general, but that’s not who you are. You’re a scared little boy trying to make daddy proud. You don’t have the balls to actually do something for yourself. You’ve spent so long hiding in others’ shadows you don’t even know who you are or what you want.”

If anyone else talked to Hux like that, he’d kill them on the spot, but right now, all he can do is look down and shut up because he knows she’s right. She knows him, even after all this time, more than anyone. So he tells her: “You’re right.”

She stops, looking at him like she hadn’t expected him to give in so quickly.

“You’re right,” he repeats. “I don’t know who I am. Before, I was just yours. When you left, it hurt too bad to ever find the answer to that question again.”

She’s silent, in thought, with one of the saddest looks he’s ever seen on her face. “That’s my one regret,” she says after a long moment. “Not that I left, but that I didn’t tell you. I was…scared, I guess. You were the one good thing I ever had and I didn’t want to say goodbye. That was selfish. I’m sorry.”

They first met on Hux’s six birthday. Her family had just moved next door, and they’d come to the birthday party in the hopes their children would get along. The two were instantly inseparable.

There was a sprinkling of romantic tension throughout their entire friendship, but it wasn’t until they were both seventeen that anything came of it. Every detail of the night is still seared into both of their memories. Leaving a party, too drunk to be able to successfully sneak back in, sober enough to realize their parents would kill them; laying out in the grass of a nearby park, watching the stars, sharing cigarettes; of shy first kisses, too drunk to be awkward, that evolved into desperate touches, wandering hands; whispered confessions of love.

The year after that had been the best of Hux’s life. Sometimes he’d wake up to find she’d snuck in during the night and was now sound asleep, draped over him. He’d take her to the hoity toity events his parents dragged him to, sometimes just because she looked so goddamn beautiful he wanted to cry, while she took him to house parties and clubs. They spent nearly every moment possible together, but it wasn’t an unhealthy codependency. They could function apart from the other. They just preferred taking on the world together.

“If you had told me,” he says slowly, standing up to face her, gently taking her face in his hands to meet his gaze, “you still wouldn’t have had to say goodbye.”

Her hand almost instinctively covers his. “Armitage…”

“I would’ve bitched about it a little, sure, but at the end of the day, [Y/N], I would’ve followed you to Hell’s gates and back if you asked. I still would, actually.”

The last sentence almost takes the breath out of her. She had always fought to hold on to hope, but after all he’d built over the years, she didn’t actually think he’d just throw it all away for her this quickly. “What are you saying, Armitage?” She desperately doesn’t want to misinterpret this; she needs him to say it explicitly.

“I’m saying fuck Snoke, fuck Kylo Ren, and fuck the First Order,” he tells her with a childish smile, like he’s rebelling against his parents for the first time. “Guess I’m joining the Resistance, darling.”

The last word is barely out of his mouth before her lips are on his.


End file.
